


Vulnerable

by masterwords



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fever, Headaches & Migraines, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: David always does his best to be impervious to vulnerability, but even early on, he's real with Patrick.  When he's sick, and shouldn't be coming to work, he still goes because the simple fact is that Patrick is the only person who makes him feel better.Set in the days just after Grad Night - things are still new, but they're happening.  It's a fluffy, whumpy-ish story.  Because that's what I like.  Thanks for reading!





	Vulnerable

The sun was streaming through the windows of Rose Apothecary, casting the store in a warm morning glow. Patrick glanced at the door every so often as he spritzed the herbs and plants, wondering where his business partner was. David was usually late, he wasn't a morning person, but the store had been open for over an hour and there was no sign of him. Patrick pulled out his phone and checked it again, no text no call. He was starting to get concerned, but he continued with his morning busy work anyway. Another hour went by before he knew it. The store was dusted, spritzed, organized and he'd even made a few sales – but his concern now had grown enough that he was going to shut down the store for a very early lunch and go to the motel to check on his friend. His business partner. His...something more? He didn't know where to land on that one yet, so it was his friend. As he slipped the keys into his pocket, he heard the front door open and sighed. As much as he wanted customers, he felt a growing sense of urgency to find out where David was. He patted the keys in his pocket and walked through the door, replacing his concern with a friendly smile.

“Welcome to Rose Apo-” he began, but stopped when his eyes registered the person who had entered. “David?”

“Sorry I'm late...” David muttered under his breath, lacking all of his usual theatrics. In truth, he looked a wreck. His face was pale, his head was covered in a knit cap pulled low, and he wore sunglasses which he didn't remove when he came inside like usual. He walked slowly and stiffly, like he was in a great deal of pain, but he didn't say anything. Patrick just stared for a moment, not sure how to approach this situation – as a friend? As a business partner? They had shared a kiss just a few nights ago, and hadn't had much time or privacy to explore what that meant yet, so here he was stuck between caring and not knowing how much he cared. 

“Are you alright?” Patrick asked, approaching David cautiously. He stood just enough in David's path that the man had to pause for a moment, and he watched as David placed a hand on his stomach and stopped walking, his eyes trained on the floor. He seemed unsteady on his feet standing before Patrick. 

“No,” he began, “but I'm here so...let's just...” David said, sharper than he'd intended, placing a hand in front of Patrick's face as if to say stop the interrogation. He let his voice trail off, knowing that he didn't need to be mean, and he pushed past his friend and made his way to the back of the store. His head was throbbing, he could hardly open his eyes through the pain, and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up all over the store if he didn't get to the bathroom quickly. Vomit was definitely not on brand, for him or the store. He hadn't had a migraine in months, and he hadn't had one this bad since coming to Schitt's Creek. Usually when he had one, his money (or his mother) could get him everything he needed to get rid of it quickly or put him in a coma until it was gone – but times had changed, and for the first time in a very long time, he was living through it. He'd begged his mother for one of her pills, but she accused him of not needing it badly enough and took her purse and her entire stash with her when she'd left for town hall. He made it to the bathroom in time to sit in front of the toilet and throw up, though after the morning he'd had, there wasn't much left. He'd already thrown up everything he'd eaten in the last year, by his calculations. If he thought the food from the cafe was bad going in, it was worse coming out. At this point, it was a lot of very painful dry heaving and bile that burned his throat and made his eyes water. When his body was done with this round, he slumped down against the cool linoleum floor and closed his eyes, hugging his arms around his aching ribs and trying desperately to hold back the tears burning behind his eyes. This was going to be a long day. 

“David, you don't have to be here...” Patrick said softly, right outside the door. He could hear what was going on, and felt awful for his friend. He leaned against the wall and listened for a response, but it was a long period of utter silence. 

“Yes...I do...” David called back, pulling himself to his feet and trying to wash himself up in the dark. He contemplated just staying in the bathroom, but that would defeat the purpose of coming in and he knew it. If other grown ups could go to their jobs sick, so could he. The idea that Patrick might think he was a spoiled baby was enough to make him stand upright and try to push through. He'd never really cared much what other people thought of him, nor had he needed to because everyone just pretended to like you when you were rich, but Patrick...he cared deeply what Patrick thought of him. Outside the door, Patrick sighed and went back to the front of the store. He turned off the overhead lights and turned up the air conditioner just a little, figuring that if David was intent on being here, Patrick could try to make it less miserable for him. David came out into the front of the store slowly, aware of the slight changes Patrick had made for him, and felt a fluttering feeling in his stomach – the best feeling he'd had in almost 12 hours of misery. He could feel the cool air against his cheeks from the air conditioner, and it gave him a small amount of comfort, though he did wonder how much this would cost them when the bills came rolling in. He walked around the store, squinting through his sunglasses and tried to keep himself busy and distracted from the dizzying pain in his head and neck. The lotions and sprays nearly made him throw up again, the smells were too intense today, so he tried his best to stay away from that area. Later, a woman came into the store with her children, who yelled loudly for her to come and look at all sorts of things which she continued to ignore, and David thought his head might actually explode. Patrick, saint that he was, handled the noise from the children while David rang up her purchases. As the day progressed, David felt worse and Patrick could see his decline. He was moving slower, making more trips to the bathroom, and Patrick knew he wasn't going to make it to closing time on his feet, try as he might. 

“David, you need to lie down,” Patrick said quietly as David emerged from the bathroom again. David thought about arguing for a moment, but he was totally defeated – he was in pain, he was exhausted, his hands were trembling to the point he couldn't touch anything fragile - he was done. He just nodded his head sadly and made his way toward the couch in the backroom, which to his surprise was made up with a pillow and a blanket. He took his glasses off and looked at Patrick sadly, tears welling up in his eyes. Patrick just smiled gesturing toward the couch, and once David was lying down he pulled the blanket up over his friend and placed a cold wash rag on his forehead. At this, David began to cry, covering his face with the blanket. 

“Thank you,” he muttered through sobs, trying to calm his breathing. The cool water from the rag dripped down his face and mingled with his tears, wetting the pillow under his cheek. It didn't matter. 

“You're welcome,” Patrick began, setting a cold Coca Cola and a bottle of water down on the floor beside the couch. “I don't know what helps when you feel like this, but I called and asked Ted about migraines and he said a Coke and some water might be good...mostly he just said you should probably sleep...anyway, I don't know why I called him? I'm sorry if I was overstepping...” His voice trailed off, and he didn't wait for David to respond before heading to the front of the store to help a customer. He just hoped that David would sleep the rest of the day, and also maybe that he would forget everything Patrick had just said. When he returned to the back to grab a plunger for a customer, his wish was granted – David had fallen asleep. Patrick returned once he'd taken care of the customer and softly replaced the now warm rag on his friend's forehead with a fresh cold one, and continued to do that the rest of the day as David slept. His mind raced as he worked, thinking about all of his options for closing time, which was coming up fast – he got a knot in his stomach thinking about what to do, how to be helpful but not come on too strong. In the end, he opted to just go with his first instinct, which was to close the store down on his own and wake David up once it was done. With all of the lights off, he approached the couch quietly and crouched before his friend. 

“David?” he asked, gently resting his hand on David's shoulder. He felt David stir and moan a little. “David, the store is closed, it's time to go home.” David kept his eyes closed for a moment, a feeling of dread entering his chest as he realized he would need to walk back to the motel and be in a room with his family feeling this way. 

“I think I'll just sleep...here...” he whispered. “You can go.” Patrick smiled, nodding his head slowly. 

“I was going to suggest you come stay at my place tonight since Ray is out of town on business, but I guess if you want to sleep in our stockroom next to the plungers, that's your prerogative.” 

David froze for a minute, and opened his eyes against the darkness. He could just barely make out Patrick's smile in the dark and he felt the fluttering feeling again. “Your place? Ohhh...kay...” he said. “Yeah. Mmmhmm. Ok. I'd like that.” 

__________________________________________________________________

Ray and Patrick's apartment was dark, but it was small and easy to maneuver through. Patrick kept his hand on the small of David's back, which sent butterflies through his stomach again, as he guided him through the front room and into the small bedroom. He helped David down onto the bed and began to untie his shoes, fumbling with the laces in the dark. David's shoes were ridiculous, and difficult to deal with, but he managed. 

“Is this your bed?” David asked in a painful, raspy whisper. Patrick's response was quiet, but David felt it in his soul. 

“Yeah, it is. But I'll sleep on the couch, I'm not trying to...you know...” Patrick lifted David's legs and helped tuck him into the bed as gently as he could. He padded out to the kitchen, grabbed an ice pack and returned to place it at the base of David's neck. “Ted told me that this might help...I'm not sure why I'm asking a Vet for human medical advice but it seemed logical at the time...” Patrick mumbled, his hand lingering in David's hair a little longer than he'd intended. He didn't think David minded too much. 

“Thank you...for being so nice to me...I'm not used to people...you know...” David mumbled, letting his body melt into Patrick's bed. It was softer than his bed at the motel, though he noted that his sheets were definitely of a higher thread count. He felt the weight of Patrick sitting on the bed beside him, and the ice against his neck, and everything felt surreal. He was in so much pain, but for the first time that day, he was able to distract himself from it with something that made him feel good and safe. 

“Can I get you anything?” Patrick asked softly, a small smile pursing his lips as he watched David settle into his bed. He wanted to take this whole thing slowly, but he could get used to seeing that face in his bed. David made a small noise and shook his head.

“No, I'm ok. I mean, I'm obviously a wreck and not ok but...I don't need anything right now...” Patrick chuckled a little, at least David seemed to be a little more himself than he had been earlier. 

“Ok. Well, I'm going to go watch some TV, you should get some sleep. If you're feeling up to it in the morning, I will make us breakfast before we have to head to the store.” 

“Thank you. Like, really...thank you, Patrick,” David said as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax himself to sleep. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Around 2am, Patrick woke to a sound from his bedroom. It sounded like crying. He tiptoed toward the room and listened for a moment, trying to assess the situation before barging in. Finally, after a minute at the door, he decided to knock lightly to announce his entry. 

“David?” he asked quietly, noting that David was in bed but looked like he hadn't been there long. “Are you alright?” 

David was pale and his hands were shaking. “No.” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. Patrick moved quickly and sat on the bed beside him. He fumbled with the idea of touching David, but he held back for the moment. 

“What can I do?” he asked, stifling a yawn. 2AM was not a time of day he was generally accustomed to being awake, but he tried his best. 

“I don't know...” David whispered through quiet sobs. Patrick thought for a moment, and against his earlier judgment about taking things slowly, put his hand on David's shoulder and rubbed softly. “I don't...it's never lasted this long before...I don't know how much longer I can...” he muttered, pressing his fingers tight against the pressure behind his eyes. Fireworks showered through the black as he pressed, dragging his fingers down his cheeks through the tears. Patrick took a deep breath and pulled David closer to him. 

“How about a shower? You smell like you could use a shower...” he was trying to lighten the mood, he could tell David was not used to being taken care of. Placated and pushed aside, maybe, but not taken care of. David nodded his head and Patrick could feel his muscles loosen a little. Patrick gave his shoulder a small squeeze and got up to head for the bathroom. He started up the shower and came back into the bedroom to find David lying down on the bed now, hands still over his face. Patrick approached him and touched his shoulder. “The, uh, shower is ready...” He could feel the heat radiating from David's body and paused for a moment, wondering whether a hot shower was really best. “Have you taken your temperature? You feel really warm...are you sure this is a migraine?” David shook his head and looked up at Patrick with his dark eyes, ringed with red from crying. Patrick nodded and popped into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a thermometer. After a few moments, it beeped and read 101.3, which concerned Patrick. He supposed, for a moment, that he was the one who had assumed it was a migraine – David had never confirmed or denied his assumption. 

“David, you have a fever,” he began, furrowing his brow. “I'm going to turn the heat down on the shower, and I'm going to take you to the hospital if your temperature goes any higher.” 

When David stood up, Patrick could see he was clearly in pain and very unsteady. He was beating himself up now, even if he had no reason to, for making assumptions about what David was going through. “David...” he began, watching David hunch over slightly and hug his midsection as he shuffled toward the shower. Patrick hung back, afraid to overstep his boundaries – they were friends, there was that kiss, but they hadn't...it wasn't there yet. He watched from the bedroom for a moment as David struggled with his clothes, and then found himself filled with a sudden feeling of boldness – one he'd never had before – and he moved into the bathroom, immediately letting his hands start working at unbuttoning David's weird sweater. David slumped over slightly, melting into the help. Patrick hadn't expected that, hadn't expected David's willingness and ease, and he was grateful. He continued, a little more sure of himself, getting to the last button and feeling his fingers soft against David's stomach.

“Thank you” 

Patrick looked away as David slipped his underwear off and stepped into the shower. He stayed in the bathroom though, just in case. He could hear David whimpering in there, and it wasn't long before he couldn't take it any longer. He was the one who had drawn the line in the sand with their intimacy, he was the one who had shied away, but he knew what he was feeling was powerful and it was real and David needed him. If he couldn't be fully here, fully present now, then how could David trust that he ever would be? No, he needed to be bold. Slowly, he slipped out of his own pajamas and entered the shower. David squinted in his direction for a moment, furrowing his brow, then closed his eyes and Patrick drew him in for a hug. Patrick felt David melt into him, arms tight around his shoulders, face buried in Patrick's shoulder. 

“Thank you,” David whispered, his lips wet against Patrick's shoulder. Patrick just smiled. 

“You're welcome.” he replied. 

_____________________________________________________________

After the shower, David seemed to feel better and was able to hold down some water and saltines so that he could take some medication that Patrick hoped would at least help take the fever down. It was 3am now, and Patrick felt dead on his feet, but he sat beside his friend just watching as he tried to fall asleep against the throbbing pain in his head and the ache in his chest. Patrick tangled his fingers softly in David's dark hair, so curly now after the shower. David's soft, olive skin was paler than usual in the moonlight, and Patrick let his hand trail down the gentle curve of David's cheek, finally resting against the warm nape of his neck. 

Once he was sure that David was sleeping, he tucked the blanket up around his shoulders and padded softly back to the couch. Though he felt like he would collapse from exhaustion, his mind was racing at a mile and minute and it took him over an hour of watching infomercials to fall asleep. 

David woke to the smell of coffee brewing, which simultaneously made him feel happy and sick to his stomach. He blinked around at his surroundings in the golden morning light – Patrick's bedroom. He was in Patrick's bedroom. It felt surreal, and he wished it was under very different circumstances. Memories from the night before flooded his mind – the vomiting, the crying, the shower. His hand reached up and patted the top of his head, feeling his matted curls and he shuddered at the thought of what he must look like. He lay for a long while, trying to will himself to stand up, to assess his situation. The pain in his head was still searing, but had relocated to one side, concentrating on his right eye and the back of his neck. His ribs ached, but he didn't feel like he was going to be riding the toilet so hard today so that he counted as a win. The fever he didn't understand, and he'd let Patrick be the judge of that one – so it was time to move to the next step, standing up and trying to make himself presentable. Slowly and painfully, he pulled himself to his feet and walked into the bathroom – he was unsteady, and dizzy, but he made it without incident. 

“Oh...oh God...” he gasped at the sight in the mirror, recoiling a bit in terror. “Oh no. Oh noooo...” he reached up and touched his face, his skin so pale and the dark circles under his eyes so prominent. His eyes were puffy, his hair was wild and out of control, his lips were dry. He was a hot mess. Shuddering, he splashed ice cold water over his face repeatedly, running his wet hands back through his hair as if it might help. He didn't have any of his products, and he knew Patrick wouldn't have anything – Patrick was naturally gorgeous, he wasn't the type to have or need a skin routine. He probably washed his face and hair with the same bar of soap from the grocery store. No, he was going to have to hide in the bathroom all day or suck it up. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he decided he would just have to suck it up. He was simply too sick and too exhausted to care much. He would just have to do his best to fake feeling better so that he could go home and make it right. He pursed his lips tightly and ran his hands through his hair one more time, letting his hand drop to the back of his neck and rubbing at the soreness. Slowly, trying to look less dizzy than he felt, he walked out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen where Patrick was preparing his cup of coffee. Nonchalantly as he could, which did not fool Patrick for an instant, he walked close to the walls, keeping one hand out to steady himself. David swallowed hard against the smell and tried to force a smile. 

“Good morning, David,” Patrick said, walking toward him inquisitively. He studied the other man for a minute before seating himself at the small table and gesturing for David to do the same. Biting his lip, David pulled his chair out and sat down, his eyes cast down toward the table. Patrick opened his mouth to speak, but David began first. 

“Patrick,” he started, knitting his fingers together nervously. “Thank you for...everything...I know I'm a lot. I'm damaged goods. I come with a lot of baggage, this is just the tip of the iceberg that is me.” 

Patrick's eyes were wide as he searched for the right words. “David, first of all, I'm not scared of humanity. We all get sick, we all need help sometimes.” David gulped and nodded, but shook his head right after. 

“So, this is my normal though. Since I was a teenager. But I used to be able to just ignore it. I would start feeling it coming on, and my mom would give me a cocktail of all sorts of things that knocked me out and I'd lose two, maybe three days? But I never felt it. And now I don't have that, and I'm feeling it and it fucking...is terrible...and I also feel terrible because other people have had to like, actually live with this and I've had it so easy? But,” he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It hurts so bad and it's not getting better, Patrick. Am I dying?”

Patrick smiled gently and placed his hand on top of David's, tangling their fingers together. “No, I don't think you're dying. I think you just need to rest. I think you were so anxious about the store opening, and now that's its done, your body is just run down and you need some rest. I called Ted again today about your fever and he told me that sometimes migraines can be a symptom of an illness, even just a cold can trigger it. Do you want me to take you home? I can run the store today on my own.” 

David shook his head solemnly. “No, I don't want to go to the motel. This is going to sound super cringey and clingy? But the only thing that's making me feel any better right now is being...around you...so...” 

Patrick was silent for a moment, then smiled. “Okay. Well the store opens in an hour. Under no circumstances are you working today, because frankly, you look terrible and the customers might get the wrong impression about our products. You're very off-brand today. So...do you want to sleep in the back room again?” David nodded his head, biting his lip and smiling. 

“I do,” he said, turning his face toward their hands, still wrapped together. “Yes.”


End file.
